


Drabble Junkyard

by xiujaemin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Blind AU, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dancer, Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, Dystopian, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Female Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Female Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao, Female Oh Sehun, First Meetings, Fluff, Humor, Internet, Kid Fic, M/M, Mulan (1998) References, Serial Killers, Trains, full metal alchemist au, shaman king au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiujaemin/pseuds/xiujaemin
Summary: drabble fills





	1. make a man out of you

  
**#1: Motivational Issues**

Zitao is lying on his back in the middle of the road, making everyone behind him stop in their tracks. As much as Zitao was a pain in the ass, they wouldn't want another soldier trampled over.

Minseok pulls him to the side, careful not to drag his body along the sandy road with much difficulty. Minseok’s uncovered biceps glisten with sweat and the eyes of someone somewhere in the back of the line shines with a manic gleam as he passes by the two when the people in front of him resume marching onwards.

"Stand up Zitao, we've still got miles to cover," He tries pulling Zitao up, but the latter wouldn't budge. "C'mon, don't be such a primadonna."

"I wanna go home!" Zitao pouts. Minseok fights the urge to slap some sense into Zitao. It’s a war they’re in, after all: it’s not like anyone’s gonna go home soon unless it’s all over or they’re all dead. He tries not to think much of the second consequence.

"Then get up, that way we'll get done with this immediately."

"But my feet hurt! Can you just carry me, hyung?"Minseok’s frown deepens as Zitao clings to his arms.  
"No, I am not your servant, I have myself to mind. And it's not my fault that you chose to wear heeled, knee-length leather boots to this journey." He eyes the younger’s untimely choice of footwear with distaste.

"But they're fashionable! They’re the latest trend back home!"Zitao wallows and Minseok knows that it really isn’t good to throw a tantrum at the side of the road, so he decides if Zitao just couldn’t suck it up, he’d have to deal with it the hard way.

"So what? Nobody cares about fashion when they're busy trying to live."Minseok tries to reason. Zitao bursts into pathetic tears. Minseok sighs, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows. He knows Zitao is still too young to be involved in a war, but hey, so is most of them.

Thankfully, Junmyeon chooses that moment to pull over and help. "I'll take it from here," He puts a hand over Minseok's shoulder and pats it, giving the older soldier a gentle yet tired smile before turning to face the tear-stricken one. "C'mon Zitao, let's get walking." Zitao protests, but he lets Junmyeon help him up anyway.

Minseok sighs again, picking up his backpack. “Well wouldn’t things be easier if you think of someone that’s worth fighting for?”

“Hm?A girl worth fighting for?”Jongdae asks, ears perking up from the helpful suggestion that he picks up from Minseok.

“Uhm… Yeah, something like that,” Minseok nods solemnly.

“Ah, well I envision her to have a really nice smile. She doesn’t need to be pretty; she just needs to be nice.” Jongdae nods to himself, certain that the girl he envisions is perfect.

"Well as for me, I don't care if it's a boy or a girl,” Jongin joins in, hearing the conversation from the very beginning. “I don't need that person to look perfect; i just want them to be able to cook the best chicken"

"Jongin are you sure about that? You sound like you're looking for a new cook,"Minseok deadpans.

"That's sorta the point, ya know. Why hire one when you can marry one? Clever, right? And you wouldn't have to worry for a pay either!" both Minseok and Jongdae stifle groans, not pretty sure if Jongin is in his right mind or is just really hungry. Or maybe he just really loves chicken that much.

"BUT I DON'T NEED SOME WOMAN, I WANT A MAN!" someone screams from up front, and everyone stops in their tracks at the sudden shock. A brown-haired boy that clearly reminds Minseok of Bambi steps forward and the other soldiers step out of his way, making the scene look like Moses parting the red sea. Minseok isn’t sure if the boy is the doom bringer or the plague itself.

The boy grabs a hold of his wrist, mouth set in a determined line. "I WANT YOU KIM MINSEOK AND YOU ARE COMING WITH ME WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR YOU LIKE IT." Minseok doesn't even look perturbed by the sudden confession, not because he’s confident of his looks and knows that everyone is ready to kneel down in front of him and follow his every command, but because deep down, he knows that everyone of them is gay for each other anyway.

 

**#2: I will make a ~~man~~ bitch out of you**

“Okay bitches, since you all ignore my nice guy approach, this time I’m going to make a man out of you.” Junmyeon taps the end of a long, wooden stick against the ground. “Now get up and get working, you pussies.”  
"But why would he even try to make a man out of us when we're all gay anyway?" Luhan whispers to Minseok’s ear. The latter couldn’t help but agree more.

"Are you sure that you want to make a man out of us or do you just want to make us your bitches," Jongdae speaks out his mind, voice going louder than intended. “Because I’m fine with that.” Junmyeon is rendered speechless by Jongdae’s words, mouth hanging agape.But didn’t Jongdae say earlier that he likes girls?

It’s clear now though that he doesn’t.

This bunch is a lot gayer than Junmyeon had expected.

\-----

"Admit it, you're gay,"Zitao crosses his arms over his chest, head cocked to the side and giving Chanyeol a sidelong glance. “I can smell it from miles away.” They’re just taking a fifteen-minute break before they resume training, and Zitao’s body is sore as hell, but he wouldn’t let the opportunity of making every soldier admit that they’re gay pass by. He has made it his life goal to form a band with them after the war, anyway.

"No bro, i don't swing that way,"Chanyeol is quick to deny, looking like a betrayed puppy. “And how would you be able to smell it? Do you have a gaydar? Because it’s totally not working right now.” He’s trying to change the question, and Zitao could feel it.But he clearly falls for it anyway.

"No, I am not a bra!" Zitao saysin an indignant voice, as he had clearly misheard what Chanyeol had said and completely ignoring the other’s question.

"Yeah, he couldn't possibly swing that way, he ain't a pendulum. He's a complete bag of balls."Sehun snickers behind his palm, and Zitao punches him in the arm just because. “Shut up you limp noodle. Or else I’ll stick some mushu pork up your ass.”

“Don’t you mean wushu stick?” Chanyeolasks. The two younger ones suddenly stop bickering, giving each other a meaningful look.

“And how would you know what I meant, hyung?” Sehun’s eyes gleam menacingly. Chanyeol swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Beads of cold sweat start forming in his forehead.

There is no way out now.

 

**#3: Deflections**

Baekhyun bends over the pond, careful not to trip and fall over the water. "Who is that girl I see—“ he singsongs, then stops to correct himself.“Oh wait I'm a guy,” he clears his throat, continuing the progression of the song “—staring straight, back at me” he touches a hand to his chest, feeling the emotions brought about by the song’s lyrics and melody pull at his heartstrings, eyes starting to close. But then he stops midway as something brown floats over to cover his reflection.“Oh wait that was an algae, my bad. I thought i just really looked like shit floating on ponds," he shrugs.

"When will my reflection show,” his pitch raises higher as he sings with his heart.“Who i am insi—"

He is rudely cut off this time by a sudden splash brought about by a stone being thrown into the pond, and he chokes as splashes from the smelly water hits his face. "That'll only happen when you stop staring at your reflection in ponds because you'll only see seaweeds and water lilies,”Kyungsoo shakes his head, another pebble in hand. “Go buy a mirror, you dumbass."

 


	2. make a man out of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon never complains because he loves Luhan that much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic fill for [this](http://ask.fm/mizuhime/answer/115227121019)

Kim Junmyeon a.k.a. **cue in sfx: credit cards being swiped and cash register pings** has enough money to use up 1000 won notes to wipe his ass and still stay as the richest man in South Korea that he could make some lame excuse of going to a restaurant instead because he’s already made a reservation there (he could pop up in front of a restaurant at any given time, and they’d still have a reserved table for him) or something like he’s had indigestion from all the gold-embellished cakes he’s eaten the previous night, but he chooses to eat the cake in the box Luhan holds up to his face when he is greeted by the latter at his doorstep at 7am, declaring the thing as a gift for their first week as a couple (“I baked it myself!” was what came after the greeting, along with a quick peck on the lips).

“I forgot to ask you what flavor you liked, but it was supposed to be a surprise, so I wasn’t able to ask you yesterday either or else you would’ve had an idea,” Luhan blabbers on as he follows Junmyeon to the kitchen. He puts the box on top of the marble countertop and takes out the cake, his own excited face reflected on the counter. “So… tada! I decided to make strawberry, since I myself like strawberry and I thought you’d like it!”

And Junmyeon says nothing but compliments, starting off with “It looks interesting!” despite the gloomy aura emanating from on top of the cake (which seems like it was stacked with poop, but it was just really icing) that he imagines it coming to life and turning into a monster able to gobble up the whole town (like a bad remake of a Power Puff Girls-infused episode of Masked Rider gone bad), and ends with an “It tastes really good!” despite the contradictory itch he’s feeling on his tongue. He grabs for the glass of water he was supposed to drink first thing in the morning before Luhan interrupted his morning ritual and gulps it down in one go, willing the itch to go away and hoping against hope that Luhan was too oblivious to notice the way his smile faltered when the cake he was presented with turned out to be strawberry-flavored.

He keeps eating, forcing the food down his throat as Luhan watches him with gleaming eyes, eyeing the icing left on his lips. His eyes start to water and he chokes, and that’s when Luhan starts worrying and making a fuss, running over to the six foot tall refrigerator and shoving a pitcher of purified water into his face. But as the martyr that he is, Junmyeon waves the water away and tells Luhan that he’s okay, and that he’s just too excited to eat the cake that he wasn’t able to chew it well before swallowing.

The door suddenly opens and they hear a familiar voice calling out both of their names, the sound getting louder and louder as the person comes nearer. “I knew you were here first thing in the morning. I need to get the cds of the soccer matches I asked you to record the other day,” Minseok greets them all smiles and a “Oh, and congratulations on your first week as a couple” on the tip of his tongue, until he sees Junmyeon’s beet red face and the cake with a strawberry on top, knowing that Junmyeon wasn’t blushing.

“Oh dear god, Luhan! Did you feed him a strawberry-flavored cake?!” Minseok shakes Luhan’s shoulders, and the other nods meekly in response, not knowing the implication of his action. “He’s allergic to that!” Without a single word, they agree to take Junmyeon to the hospital despite the other’s protests, hauling him towards the door.

“Why’d you give him strawberry cake? Everybody knows that he’s allergic to strawberries!” Minseok says in a sudden outburst once Junmyeon’s in the emergency room being treated.

“Well I didn’t? I’m not part of that ‘everybody’ you’re generalizing?” Luhan is more baffled by not having known that, despite him being Junmyeon’s boyfriend.He should’ve at least known that since they’ve been dating for a week now, right? “You think I’d feed him that if I did? And also because nobody told me?”

Minseok shrugs. “Maybe because you didn’t ask?”

“Didn’t you just need to have the prerogative to tell me?” Luhan answers, affronted because he feels betrayed by his own best friend. “I thought we were friends.” He pouts, realizing that maybe he’s the only one living in this world that has no idea of Junmyeon’s allergy to strawberries. Maybe even the president of the United Nations knows Junmyeon’s favorite color. He couldn’t be too sure.

“Is there anything wrong here?” Junmyeon comes out of the emergency room, a few rashes left on his neck but otherwise looking normal, cutting off their argument.

“Nothing.” They say in unison, and Junmyeon nods, thanking them for the help and telling them not to worry anymore.

“Oh, will you look at the time. Guess I’ll have to go to work now. Bye.” Minseok tells them, and the couple bids him their goodbye even though Luhan knows perfectly well that Minseok’s shift at the café doesn’t start in two hours. Luhan points both of his index and middle fingers to his own eyes before pointing them back to Minseok, sending telepathic messages of “I’m watching you. We have a score to settle later.”

Minseok returns his warning with a wry smile and a nod to Junmyeon, and Luhan _knows_ it means “Why don’t you get laid first?” before running off to the nearest bus stop, satchel bumping against his thigh.

“Why’d you not tell me you were allergic to strawberries?! I could’ve killed you!” the words easily broke out from Luhan’s mouth the moment Minseok was out of sight.He pouts and sulks right then and there, forgetting all talks of being the manliest man alive. Which is obviously self-contradictory, starting off with who he’s dating. “And to think that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Err… First of all, I really forgot,” Junmyeon scratches the back of his head, looking at anywhere but Luhan. “And second… well it looked really tempting, and I didn’t want you to throw it away, since like you really worked hard to make that.”

Luhan sighs. Sure Junmyeon was smart (because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to be one of the top students at the finest university in Korea, right?), but sometimes, he could be dumb. Especially if it means pleasing Luhan. “You’re such an idiot you know.” He pokes Junmyeon’s cheek. “But you’re my idiot. Remember that, okay?” Junmyeon then finally looks at him, all smiles now, no traces of his previous allergic reaction evident on his face.

Luhan grabs his hand, walking towards the exit, to where his car was parked. The driver was probably bored out of his wits for waiting for too long. Junmyeon follows, amused. “You’re not allergic to chocolate, right?”

“No, why?”

“C’mon, I’ll make you a different cake.”

Junmyeon’s eye twitches, but he hides it with a gentle smile. Luhan’s cake might look less than appealing, but for what it’s worth, looks aren’t actually deceiving because it tastes like a dry bag of flour.

“Sure,” he agrees anyway, because that’s how much he loves Luhan.

**Bonus**

As soon as Luhan leaves the room to go to the kitchen and start cooking, Minseok relaxes from his seat, thankful that Luhan has somehow forgotten about his threat. Or maybe he’s still just planning for it. “Soooo, has Luhan’s cooking skills improved that much for you to not throw away the food he makes you, or is it just because you don’t want to hurt his feelings?” Minseok continues tapping away a text message on his phone that Junmyeon wasn’t even sure if his boyfriend’s best friend really spoke, or if it was just his imagination.

Minseok stops texting, and Junmyeon assumes it’s because he’s finished sending his message. He tilts his head to the side, a curious look on his face. “Well?” The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

Junmyeon blinks and smiles wryly. “It tastes nice.”

Minseok laughs and scrolls down through his phone, eyes darting back to Junmyeon as if a dialogue was written there, complete with every gesture he’s supposed to play out. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.” Junmyeon is quick to defend.

“Please, you blinked. And I know that smile means pain, not happiness.”

He knows when he’s caught red-handed, and he’s not one to stick through a lie anyway. “Please don’t tell him.”

Minseok smiles at him, and he hopes it’s not something that means something bad is going to happen. “Don’t worry, I won’t I’ll just make him stop giving you diarrhea.”

Later that night, they have pizza take-outs for dinner instead of the pasta Luhan had promised, and Minseok nods halfway through biting at his own slice of pizza, mentally patting himself on the back for salvaging the situation before things could get worse. And really, Junmyeon is thankful that he isn’t getting a stomach ache tonight.

Both of them pretend they don’t see the brochure for cooking classes sitting on Luhan’s lap.  



	3. In Memoria Di

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luhan tries to fix things and put them back to the way they used to be, but that could never happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by 100%’s Beat mv and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. this can also be considered as a dark take to Snow White?? Erdkk. prompt posted [here](http://ask.fm/mizuhime/answer/115227563643)

Luhan has always imagined that the day when the heavens would take Junmyeon away from him would be the day when he’ll be crying his eyes out, and he’ll go home to the cold emptiness of his home, eyes red and face blotchy.

But that isn’t what happens, because all he does is stare blankly at the face of the man he’s got so used to see smiling up at him, always there by his side to inspire him to invent, to work on things to make life easier. And that’s when he thinks that maybe it would’ve been better if he cried, because he just wants for all the hollow emptiness in his heart to go away, even though he knows that even tears won’t drown out the gaping hole that Junmyeon’s absence has left in his chest.

A man wearing a black suit covers the casket close and three others help him out to haul the coffin to the open pit on the ground, slowly lowering it down. Even then, Luhan is still only staring at the pit, knowing that now, Junmyeon will only become nothing more than a memory, a soul that once traveled the earth, only to return from where it was created at the most crucial of times.

A lot of people bid their goodbyes, and Luhan shouldn’t have been all that surprised because when Junmyeon was still living, he has helped a lot of people, whether it be by simply handing out a piece of bread for a needy kid’s breakfast or assistance in looking for a job. In short, everyone in their town was thankful for Junmyeon and his short-lived existence. Yet none of their grievances would ever compare to Luhan’s.

Luhan sinks down on the sole couch in the room, covered with fabric in a sickly shade of green that looks a lot like vomit, eyes still dry and passive. It wasn’t fair, because it had to be Junmyeon who got a cardiovascular disease that doesn’t even have a name yet; it wasn’t fair that he was only given four months to live in a maximum, but dies two months after the deadline was given; it wasn’t fair because he’s close to finishing an elixir that could lengthen Junmyeon’s life, but he was damned too late.

Now after two months of worrying and fretting, after two months of hoping every day to help fix Junmyeon, Luhan realizes that as he had tried to do everything he could to bring that healthy glow back on Junmyeon’s skin and mend everything that he thinks has been broken, he himself breaks. And his heart had hurt every day, seeing Junmyeon’s sallow cheeks and thinning wrists.

Luhan knows that it’s Junmyeon who is sick and not him, but it’s as if they’re linked, and with every attack that Junmyeon suffers from, every ounce of pain shooting through his nerves, Luhan feels twice as much.

Maybe it should have been better off this way, Junmyeon safely buried in the ground, where no disease would make him suffer chest pains anymore. But if Luhan were just honest with himself, he wouldn’t need to lie that the only place he could imagine Junmyeon could ever be in was right by his side.

One would never know how a person is struck with inspiration, but at that moment, staring at nothing but the peeling paint on the walls for almost an hour was when an idea comes to Luhan’s mind—one so revolutionary that it could change the outcome of their story.

He heads out, taking nothing but an umbrella and a toolkit clad in beat-up leather, eyes suddenly alert, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

\--

He had Junmyeon’s body dug up from the graveyard and put it on a glass casket in their shared bedroom, thankful that he hasn’t agreed on getting the body embalmed, or else his plan wouldn’t work. The people from the village only looked at him with remorse, knowing that it still must be hard on him to take the loss of his lover. But he doesn’t care what those people think; he doesn’t care whether they pity him or fear him, because all he could think of is Junmyeon and the project that’s set before him: a stone that resurrects people from the dead and keeps them alive for as long as eternity, unless inflicted upon with physical harm.

He gazes upon Junmyeon’s body every day, feeling his heart clench whenever he gazes at Junmyeon’s serene face, seemingly put in a deep slumber like Princess Aurora, but not waking up. He knows Junmyeon wouldn’t be waking up soon, but he’s determined to try out everything that he can just to see Junmyeon’s smiling face again.

The stench is imminent, so he opts to surround Junmyeon’s body with flowers of varying colors, following Junmyeon’s preference for fragrant ones and red roses. He always changes them every two days, growing impatient as the petals wilt. But no matter how many times he switches to a different gradient of flower, he knows Junmyeon’s state would never change unless he does something.

Luhan works day in and day out, only taking a break whenever his stomach grumbles in hunger and his eyelids flutter shut from exhaustion, rarely even taking showers so he could finish his work quickly. His body never sees the sun for more than a month already as he works on his task: a working replica of the famed Philosopher’s stone that is more widely known for its ability to transmute inferior metals into gold than its hidden ability to resurrect the dead and the dark secret underlying its ruby color.

He couldn’t help the smile gracing his lips when he is sure that task at hand is done, and he rushes to the bedroom, the dust that has gathered in the room gracing his presence. He unhurriedly lifts the cover to the glass casket, hands trembling with excitement from the prospect of having to see Junmyeon again.

The stone slowly disappears when it is placed over Junmyeon’s chest as he absorbs the life force from the penny-sized object, its red glow gradually disappearing. Junmyeon’s eyelids flutter open, a look of confusion passing over his face. Hasn’t he died already? He remembers the gripping pain at his chest, the knowing feeling that he was going to die accompanied with the lightness of his last breath.

Luhan gives Junmyeon a chaste kiss, lips lingering longer than they should have been over his cold ones, much unlike the passionate ones they share most of the time. “Uh… maybe you should brush your teeth first.” Luhan jokes, the first time he’s said anything for the whole month.

But Junmyeon doesn’t know that, and even though he still feels weak from sleeping too much, he playfully slaps Luhan’s arm. “You should probably take a bath too. You smell like you haven’t taken a bath for a year.” His voice sounds more like a croak, still thick with sleep. And Luhan doesn’t correct him and say that no, it’s only been a week since he last took a bath.

And you would think that after all that they have been through, this would be the point where their story ends with an “And they lived happily ever after”, but they could only manage to live happily for quite a while.

Luhan says that after Junmyeon’s last attack, he had slipped into a coma, but was able to regain consciousness after a month. He would’ve believed it, if it weren’t for the constant excuses Luhan gives him to put off going out to the village. But no secret can ever remain hidden.

One day, while Luhan is still asleep, he decides to slip out and go to the market that he used to frequent to buy some food and make breakfast for the two of them, only to discover that the village was deserted. It appeared as if a wide epidemic had spread throughout the entire community, looking more and more like a ghost town as he went deeper through the heart of the town’s market place.

No one was in plain sight except a skinny young boy in tattered clothes, covered in grime from head-to-toe. He was digging through a stash of rotten apples, probably looking for something he could eat that wouldn’t give him a stomach ache. Junmyeon makes the mistakes of stumbling over a littered bottle on the road, and the boy looks up, eyes wary and hands automatically raising up and covering his face for fear of being punished for committing theft. Or at least, that’s what Junmyeon thinks. Because he doesn’t know yet that the boy fears more than that.

“No, I won’t hurt you.” Junmyeon says in a soothing voice, taking careful steps closer to the boy. “I’m just looking around and… where are the other people here?”

“D-dead.” The boy stutters, risking a glance in Junmyeon’s direction to gauge his reaction and quickly covering his face up again.

“Uhm… what?” Junmyeon isn’t sure he heard that right.

“They’re…. they’re all dead. Even the people at the next town… and the town after that… and the town after that…” The boy starts breaking out in hysterical sobs, just letting the tears fall down and not bothering to wipe them away. “I—I’m the only one left.” Junmyeon ignores the stench and uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears on the boy’s face. If he looks a lot closely, he could actually recognize who it was…

“Sehun? Sehun, it is you!” he stoops lower to meet the kid eye to eye and grabs the little boy’s shoulders and hugs tightly. “You’re all grown up now! I haven’t seen you ever since I got sick!”

Sehun uses his little hands to push Junmyeon away. “Who are you? You don’t just hug people out of nowhere!”

Junmyeon releases him and laughs, forgetting everything that the kid had already said. Maybe he was just kidding around. Maybe this was just one of his childish pranks. Maybe everybody was just on a suspicious vacation. Like, all of them.

Sehun wonders if he could ever have forgotten that laugh days from now. “And you just don’t cry in front of people all of a sudden, don’t you?” he pats Sehun on the shoulder, standing straighter. “I’m Junmyeon. I used to buy vegetables from your mom. Don’t you remember me?”

Sehun’s eyes widen with fear, and he steps back, shaking his head. “No… No that’s not possible. That couldn’t be possible!” he frantically looks around and manages to grab a rotten apple, throwing it in Junmyeon’s direction but failing to make a hit, hunger and fear impairing his aim. “The Kim Junmyeon I know is dead! And it’s because of him that everyone here died!”

Suddenly the weird feeling of death claiming him makes sense now, and Junmyeon knows that Sehun would never dare lie of a thing such as this. The trepidation in his voice and the many horrors that his eyes have probably seen evident on his face would be enough proof of that.

“Junmyeon? Are you there?” Sehun eyes widen in terror as the footsteps become louder, and he runs for his life. Literally. He is able to reach his hiding place before anyone could follow him, and he clamps a hand around his mouth, suppressing a scream. Because all he could remember from that voice is smoke and ashes, his mom’s hurried words of “Hide in here, be quiet” and a quick “I love you” before shoving him into a sack and covering it with potatoes, the last words she told him before he heard her yelp in pain, her pleads of mercy cut off by the resounding finality of gunfire being shot.

He knows he shouldn’t have taken a peek at the scenario, because seeing the criminal’s all too familiar face as he looks down on his mother with eyes devoid of emotion made it worse.

He didn’t dare scream.

“Junmyeon? What are you doing here?” Luhan puts a hand on his shoulder, a comforting touch that’s supposed to make him feel warm and fuzzy all over. But he only feels the dead weight of an anchor of all the lives of the people in the village, a sudden chill creeping into his nerves.

He swallows thickly, bile rising in his throat as his brain works out what Luhan has probably done to revive him. “Nothing, I was just looking for food.”

“But we’ve got lots of food back home! Let’s just go back.” Junmyeon merely nods, and he’s unnaturally quiet the whole way home.

“Where are… the others? The other villagers?” he speaks up when they’re in front of the doors to the Bungalow house that they share, its area more than enough for two.

“They… went somewhere else.” Luhan gives him a tight smile, and if it wasn’t for the hand touching the small of his back, he would’ve run all the way back to the village and look for Sehun.

Later that night, he creeps into the laboratory Luhan keeps two rooms away from the master’s bedroom, careful not to wake anyone up with his footsteps. He turns on the light switch, the brightness filling the room in an instant. Over a dozen beakers and flasks of different variations are on the working table, a thin pipe barely connecting a setup, almost breaking under the weight of the cylinders.

A notebook that he has seen Luhan use when the other was writing down ideas for inventions he would make lies on the table, pages turning brown. He flips through them, different models of machines lining the first few pages of the notebook. But as he keeps going through it, he notices the handwriting looking more and more hurried, feeling Luhan get more and more desperate as he pens down sketches of elixirs and stones, ingredients scratched out and instructions inserted.

The last entry didn’t have a drawing, only a set of ingredients that progressed to something more than what Junmyeon has thought it would be composed of. The words one droplet were traced over and over, underlined even.

35 liters of water  
20 kilos of carbon  
4 liters of ammonia  
1.5 kilos of lime  
800 grams phosphorus  
niter 250 grams, magnesium  
manganese 1.5 grams  
iron 5 grams  
silicon 3 grams.  
14 Human Sacrifice  
10 animal sacrifices  


“Junmyeon? What—“ Luhan stops by the doorway, seeing tears in Junmyeon’s eyes, a familiar brown notebook in his hands.

“Luhan, how could you do this? I love you, but I just couldn’t let this pass,” Junmyeon shakes his head, the horrors of what Luhan has done haunting him. “I love you, but I detest the person you have become.”

“Junmyeon I—“He stops Luhan with a hand. “No, don’t come any closer. You repulse me, Luhan! You didn’t have to kill all of those people!”

“No, you’re wrong. I did. It was all I could do to make you alive again. And I could do that again.” Junmyeon is still shaking his head, tears stinging his eyes as the weight of more than a hundred murders lurk in the deepest places of his mind. He feels guilty for all of this, because if it wasn’t for him, Luhan wouldn’t have killed them in the first place, and his hands wouldn’t have been tainted with the blood of innocent people. If it wasn’t for him, Sehun wouldn’t have been an orphan. If it wasn’t for him, all of the people he had lived helping out would still be alive. “A hundred—even a thousand of them—could never compare to you.”

Junmyeon looks around, seeing only one way to resolve the cause of this foolishness and put an end to it. He grabs one of the cylinders from the setup, not so much as having any care whether what he drank was muriatic acid or sulfuric acid or just plain toilet bowl cleaner and gulps it in one go, knowing very well that he’s undeserving of the life he’s been re-granted with. The colorless liquid hasn’t even reached his stomach when his body reacts, and his throat clogs up, a burning sensation spreading through his esophagus like wildfire. His knees buckle up from the pain, as it was proven lethal. It most definitely wasn’t plain water, at least.

He drops the cylinder and leans heavily against the table, sending the other glassware down to the floor as he struggles to set himself upright. The glass breaks, but it’s Luhan’s heart that is beyond repair.

Junmyeon vomits from the bile rising up his throat, but it isn’t a half-processed version of last night’s servings of beef that comes out of his mouth. The blood seeps through his shirt as his life drains away from him, and Luhan isn’t quick enough to stop him. He catches Junmyeon just as he was about to crash to the floor, a jumble of words tumbling out of his mouth. But Junmyeon was at least able to understand two sentences. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I’m sorry. I love you too.” Junmyeon struggles to tell Luhan those words, but he still tries, even if it mostly comes out as a croaked mumble and he could still taste the blood on his mouth. He closes his eyes, death finally coming back to him to claim the price he had to pay for the extension that Luhan had hoped. He doesn’t hear Luhan’s last words. “Please come back.”

Luhan sobs while rocking back and forth, Junmyeon’s lifeless body pressed to his chest. He spares a glance at the broken glass scattered all over the floor from the shattered glassware.

It wouldn’t hurt to try out a little experiment, wouldn’t it?  



	4. drabble fills

**KrisHan dystopian! au**  
_**Kris/Luhan, 145w** _

Luhan is all gentleness, delicate features and ungrudging, sparkling eyes. Everything about him screams that he is an ordinary human, a specie that would be eradicated some day.

Yifan is control, precision, constraint. He is perfect. He can be anything—anyone that he wanted to be, yet being human is not one of those (and that’s what he had wanted the most), because he is everything but human.

Their worlds collide, slide past one another like the earth’s tectonic plates. It’s chaotic, sending the world in turmoil and endless bouts of tremor, but then everything falls into place as the earth continues spinning in its axis, in its orbit around the sun. Everything turns out fine, but then again, they’re not exactly the same anymore.

Because their races are pitted in a war against each other, and nobody could ever be sure about the outcome.

\--

**internet! au**  
_**g, 155w** _

“What’s that.”

“It’s Tumblr.” Jongdae says, not bothering to look up from the screen of his laptop.

“You’re watching porn, aren’t you.” Kyungsoo deadpans as if what Jongdae is doing is a common occurrence in their daily lives. (Well, it probably is)

“No I’m not, I’m blogging”

“Blogging about porn”

“No, I—“

“You most probably are.”

“Do Kyungsoo, if you do not shut up, I’ll post all of your ugly pre-debut pictures on instagram.” Kyungsoo knows Jongdae too well to know when the older male is dead serious or just plain shitting him for the heck of things. He backs off away from the potentially-brewing fight, knowing perfectly well how to pick his fights, but Jongdae’s words echo in his mind and give him an idea.

He creates an instagram account later that night and posts one of Baekhyun's photos that he saw on google whilst searching using the key words "Baekhyun ugly pictures"

\--

**TaoHun assassin! au**  
_**Tao/Sehun, 381w** _

Zitao is poised for the kill, nimble feet moving soundlessly across the lawn of his last victim for the night. He stops dead in his tracks, a figure leaning against the balustrade greeting him with tired eyes and a forced smile.

Kill. Show no mercy. Purge their souls. Be cleansed of all the evil the world has brought upon you with the blood of your enemy.

That is the principle that Zitao has been brought up with, the very same principle that had his clan branded as the family of skillful, mercenaries, ready to kill upon instruction.

But this night was different, ecause he’s facing chocolate brown irises and a worried smile from someone he actually knew, someone who he didn’t expect to come up in his hit list. “Tao? You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

And he wants to cry and kick and scream, because all he wants right now is to be Oh Sehun’s savior and not the perpetrator of the crime itself. But no, he was sent here for a different purpose: and that was to kill.

“There’d been a mistake!” he thinks to himself. But he knows this was the right Oh Sehun, and that this was the right apartment, because the records say so. But he also couldn’t bring himself to kill someone he’s just starting to be friends with back at uni (and trying really hard not to grow fond of) whenever he’s not struggling with the living the double life of being a college student and at the same time the youngest assassin assigned to the most influential mafia’s current primo.

But with the responsibility weighing down on his shoulders, it’s go kill or go home.

He repeats the mantra to himself over and over again, reminding himself of what he’s supposed to do. Reminding himself of his identity and his clan’s credibility. His grip on the hilt of his katana tightens, and he unsheathes it, the light from the fluorescent bulb of the apartment glinting wickedly on its edge.

But something happens differently that night, which shouldn’t have been different from all the other nights he’s spent on a killing spree.

He falls down, his sword by his side and his own blood in his hands.

The lights flicker, but nobody screams.

\--

**XiuChen Greek! au**  
**_Xiumin/Chen, 374w_ **

Every day, Jongdae would just sit down on his favorite wooden chair by the window overlooking the sea, admiring the way the waves would roll and lap up against the sand, only to drag itself back. He wishes he could be free like that, able to come and go to different places at his own will and not stuck in an island for all eternity’s worth. But he couldn’t because he’s trapped there, able to witness everything change and everyone else come and go as they please, but never being able to leave himself. He wishes for death to claim him already, but the gods would never permit such a generous act, for they know that when he greets the doors of death, it would be with a smile and not regret.

And like most years, another unlucky human the gods decided to play around with is washed up by the shore, more dead than breathing. Jongdae hurries and leaves the comforts of his home, the fine grains of sand finding their way through his sandals as he makes his way to the stranger.

Despite the chapped lips, sun burnt skin and fazed subconscious state that is proof of the hardships he went through during his voyage, Jongdae finds the man attractive. He lets the thought go as soon as it came, choosing to take care of the matter at hand first before anything else.

“I’m Kim Minseok,” the stranger croaks his introduction, eyes still red from the salt water. A tired yet grateful smile graces his features upon regaining consciousness. “Thank you, for saving me.”

Jongdae is surprised, having had been thanked immediately instead of the usual interrogations of “Who are you?”, “Where am I?” and “What do you want with me?” Minseok for sure, was a whole deal different from the other heroes and explorers he had rescued, yet he also knows that like the other shipwrecked sailors, Minseok would someday leave the island to continue his voyage and go back to the family he’s left back home.

But this time, Jongdae dismisses the negative thoughts and only thinks of what they have right now, letting himself be happy even if it’s just for a moment. “I’m Kim Jongdae, and you’re welcome.”

\--

**XiuHun train! au**  
_**Xiumin/Sehun, 493**_  
**Summary:** Minseok tries to cope with his inability to speak, while Sehun struggles with trying to say what he feels.

Sehun covers his face with a calculus textbook, pretending to read it. Even if somebody saw it, nobody tells him it’s upside down as his nose buries further and further within the pages of the book as the imaginary tension in the air strengthens.

The man standing in front of him shifts his weight from one leg to the other, left hand adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder while his right remains holding on to the metal bar and Sehun jerks upright, almost standing up to offer his seat to the guy but not having the guts to do so.

The train comes to a stop and the door automatically opens. A stream of people struggle to come in as some of the passengers push their way out, sliding in between gaps and unintentionally stepping on feet.

Sehun doesn’t know how, but it feels like fate has decided to give him a chance as the seat beside him is left unoccupied, and the man he’s been eyeing for over a week now goes over and sits beside him. He’s always been watching, waiting for an opportunity to talk to the short guy that had the sex appeal worth ten nuclear bombs yet could transform into a ball of mushy cuteness in split seconds in-between hamster-like smiles and sexy eyebrows rising in confusion.

He isn’t one to make small conversation, for back at school, it’s other people flocking around him and willing them to notice him and not the other way around, but he risks his neck and tries anyway.

The man raises an eyebrow in inquiry, and Sehun is quick to splutter out, “I’m Sehun by the way,” with pathetic excuses of “I’ve been seeing you on this train lately, on my way home. I was wondering whether we go to the same school or live around the same subdivision.” He smiles more in embarrassment at what he’s doing more than anything else, but the man returns his answer with a smile and a name tag being shoved in his direction.

‘Kim Minseok’ is what the small piece of metal attached to a gold safety pin reads, and Sehun doesn’t know why this guy chose to give him his name tag instead of just answering the question directly, until Minseok makes hand gestures that he has no idea of. ‘I can’t speak, but you seem like a nice person.’  
If Sehun looks crestfallen, Minseok doesn’t show he notices it because all he does is tap his neck and make even more hand gestures. ‘I may not have a voice, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t understand you, right?’

Sehun doesn’t know what exactly Minseok is saying, but he’s pretty sure he could get the gist of it. He grabs a pen and a notebook that barely has any writings from his bag and hands it over to Minseok.  
They could surely find a way to make things work, right?

\--

**killer! au**  
_**Kyungsoo-centric, 117w** _

The smell of death wraps around Kyungsoo's nostrils and the darkness embraces him in its cold depths, but it never engulfs him. With a flick of a wrist and a thwack and a thud, blood splatters all over his white dress shirt. Not a single scream could be heard, because no one is left alive to do such a menial task. He doesn't smile. He doesn't flinch. He just walks out the door, his job done.

This is how this story starts: with the death of seven people in a five star hotel room heavily guarded by trained body guards, situated at the heart of the business section of the city.  
But don't worry: it gets better.

\--

**LayHun dancer! au**  
**_Sehun/Lay, 332 w_ **

Sehun ignores the riotous beating of his heart, feeling as if it’s even louder than the cheers of the crowd. The steady rhythm of the music’s beats booms in the auditorium, and he looks up in awe at the way his boyfriend dances, captivated by every movement.

Yixing moves in fluid precision, every step accurate and not missing a beat. There’s a soulful feeling in the emotions being portrayed in the dance, and Sehun could feel it, flowing through his nerves and coursing through his veins like wildfire.

The dance ends, and Yixing bows down to the crowd, an ecstatic smile spreading across his face despite the thick beads of sweat sliding down his forehead. Sehun claps hard, proud of the performance the older male gave. His eyes meet Yixing’s, and he is surprise how easily the dancer locates him in the crowd despite the large throng of people surrounding the stage.

Sehun smiles and Yixing doesn’t know if the younger guy is aware of the way the world seems to light up when he smiles, unspoken promises of better tomorrows stuck in between those lips.

Minutes later, Sehun turns when hands grab him on the waist and is greeted by a light peck on the lips. Yixing gives him a blinding smile, sweat still clinging onto his face. “So how was it?” he asks, and Sehun couldn’t think of an answer because his eyes keep following the beads of sweat trailing down Yixing’s neck into his shirt.

“It—it was—“He stutters, having no words to say to describe the performance. “Err… Umm… Superior. Phenomenal.” He almost slaps himself because that came off sounding sarcastic and he blushes deeply in embarrassment, but Yixing knows he’s being sincere.

He pinches his boyfriend’s cheek with adoration. “Such a cutie,” he says, and the younger between the two retaliates by pinching his nose.

“I’m sure you’re going to win. Don’t worry.” Sehun reassures him, and he likes to believe what Sehun said was right.

\--

**het! kaisoo fluff**  
**_girl! D.O./Kai, 361 w_ **

Kyungsoo knows that with Jongin, she shouldn’t be surprised, having had known him for more years than she could count in her fingers, unforgettable antics having a special place in a box of memories she’s been keeping in her head. But she still couldn’t help the loud gasp that escapes her lips when the guy hoists her up by the waist and lifts her over his head, until he could place her legs on either side of his shoulders. She’s grateful that she’s chosen to wear shorts that day instead of a skirt.

“What—“ she starts to say in protest, but Jongin cuts her off. “You’ve been tiptoeing since the concert started. It’s starting to annoy me how your height is a big problem here.”

“Why you little twit,” She hits his arm in a not-so-gentle manner. “Jongin, put me down or else I’ll bite your ear off.” She warns him. His whole body is wracked by laughter, and she tries not to think about the fluttery feeling she still gets in her stomach after all this time.

“And risk getting hit in the chin when you try jumping up and down to see them? Never.”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo says in surrender. “Just don’t let me fall, you idiot.”

His grip on her waist is firm, keeping her balanced, but she’s still scared that no one will save her when she falls. Whether her fear is in a metaphorical or literal sense, she isn’t sure anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” he assures her. “And if you do fall, I’ll catch you.”

Kyungsoo is thankful that they aren’t facing each other at the moment, because she knows she’ll probably need a portable fan to cool the heat pooling in her cheeks and that seeing the expression on Jongin’s face when he said that could only make her blush even harder.

So she focuses on the band performing in front of her instead, who is currently playing her favorite track from their latest album. She screams a cheer partly to distract herself, but she couldn’t hear her voice – not from the noise of the crowd, but from the wild hammering in her chest.

\--

**femmeslash! TaoHun and bubbletea dates**  
_**girl! Sehun/girl! Zitao, 314 w** _

“Sehunnie, can I—“

“No,” Sehun answers with her usual deadpanned expression. “And stop calling me Sehunnie, you sound like my mom.”  
“And nobody cares!” Zitao singsongs and makes a grab for the cup of bubble tea in Sehun’s hand, managing to successfully get a gulp of the drink before the younger one could take could take it back and give her a reprimanding slap on the arm.

“Bitch, go buy your own.” Sehun says, taking a sip using the same straw.

“But Sehunnie, isn’t it sweeter if we drink from the same cup? Sharing is loving, right?” Zitao latches on to her arm, discreetly thinking of ways to take back the cup. But she doesn’t budge, much to Zitao’s chagrin.

But still, Zitao is determined, pouting up at Sehun and willing the other to pity her by making puppy dog eyes at her. She presses her chest closer to Sehun, grip tightening, and the latter almost chokes while drinking, feeling her girlfriend’s breasts against her arm.

Zitao stops the laugh bubbling up in her chest, opting to cackle internally upon seeing Sehun’s blush, and she’s so sure that she’s won this time until Sehun grabs her and gives an open-mouthed kiss, lips still sticky from the drink and tongue tasting like chocolate. She could only respond enthusiastically.

“I’d rather share my saliva than my tea.” Sehun says after as if nothing had happened, breaking the flitting moment of romance blossoming between them. “It tastes better, anyway.”

“You’re gross.” Zitao comments with a laugh, but she holds on to Sehun’s free hand anyway, tugging at her girlfriend’s wrist in a silent suggestion of going somewhere else. Sehun complies with a noncommittal shrug, but she intertwines her fingers with Zitao’s either way as they walk to the shop’s door, being the one to be habitually dragged out as always, unfinished drink in her other hand.

\--

**kaisoo fluff (inspired by Best Luck OST)**  
**_Kai/D.O., 290 w_ **

Kyungsoo laughs, breathless panting in between giggles. “Jongin you idiot, slow down! I’m running out of breath!”  
Jongin laughs, hand still clamped around Kyungsoo’s wrist as he leads the way, Kyungsoo’s short legs trying to keep up with his long strides. “But admit it, it was fun, right?” he laughs, and Kyungsoo is reminded of when they first met, of bright smiles and shy hellos.

“Well as much as ringing the doorbells of stranger’s houses and running away at the last moment before the owner could hit you with a broom could be considered as fun, yeah, sure.” He answers with a grin. Jongin looks back, and seeing that no one is chasing them now, his pace slows down to a jog, and Kyungsoo follows suit.

“C’mon hyung, give me some credit!” Jongin whines and Kyungsoo could only laugh in response.

It’s in moments like these that go unplanned but end up as one of the memorable ones that remind Kyungsoo of the reason why he’s hold on for so long. He knows it’s a common thing for couples to argue even at the smallest of things, but sometimes he just doesn’t know why he’s here in the first place.

But then Jongin tugs at his wrist and turns back a moment to give him a smile that could make the blooming of flowers during springtime pale in comparison, and he remembers the shy, awkward boy that he so loves despite the differences they have and the occasional clinginess, the smile he’s wearing never disappearing in return for Jongin’s.

They say that nowadays, it’s rare to have someone you love be able to love you in return, but with the looks that they share, Kyungsoo knows that they’re both lucky.

\--

**SuChen shaman king! au**  
**_Suho/Chen, 289 w_ **

“This era never fails to amuse me.” Jongdae says, lips quirking up in amusement as he hovers over Junmyeon, who’s sitting cross-legged in front of his laptop, busy watching a video of himself doing some weird freestyle dance in the middle of a busy day at the mall, one that could be played alongside some 70s song.

He cringes internally from the shame of having to be seen in such a public place doing something his guardian ghost is at fault for, a revenge sought for when he chopped some vegetables while Jongdae's spirit was still in his sword. Maybe he shouldn't have done that, considering that his guardian spirit was known for making trouble, even if it was meant to teach the spirit a lesson.

“This isn’t one of the purposes for possessing a shaman, you know.” Junmyeon sighs, knowing he couldn’t seek vengeance upon a spirit. “You know what, once I become the Shaman King, I’ll wish for more wishes so I could waste one on you.”

“Awww, thank you Junmyeon, I’m deeply touched.”

“Then I’ll wish for you to have a physical body so I could punch you in the face anytime I want.”

“Oh please, you want me to have a physical body so you could grope my butt and caress my guns. Admit it, you love me.”

“No Jongdae, not this again.”

“That’s okay, I’m a patient person. It wouldn’t take long for you to kneel in front of me and profess your undying love, anyway.” Jongdae says, and winks at him.

Junmyeon shakes his head, thinking of whether there are other spirits out there like Jongdae. And that if there were, he pities the shamans they’re with.

Maybe they should start a club.

\--

**ChenSoo Blind (블라인드)! au**  
**_Chen/D.O. (if you squint really, really hard), 408 w_ **

Jongdae’s eyes turn into slits as he squints and squints and squints some more. He knows that Chanyeol wasn’t the best of their bunch, but he just couldn’t believe what he’s just heard. “So you’re saying that the only witness to the crime is a blind man?”

Chanyeol might have understood the implications of the statement just as it rolled of Jongdae’s tongue and how ridiculous it sounded, but he nodded nonetheless, albeit weakly. “There weren’t any CCTV cameras around the area, and it was late into the night, so no one was passing by. Also, only a few people live around that area, so our options are really narrowed down to a few. I believe he’s our only hope.”

Jongdae’s mouth runs dry. “Does this case even have a chance to be solved, then?” He shakes his head and buries his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes. “How does some blind guy even help us, given that he’s blind? What about the criminal’s identification, physical characteristics—“

“You belittle me too much, Detective Kim. I’m only blind, you know. My other senses aren’t impaired.” an unfamiliar voice interrupts them—small but not weak, firm but definitely not harsh—and Jongdae looks up just in time as a fragile-looking boy with expressive eyes but a blank stare enters his office, a cane in his hand, serving as an extension of his impaired sense. He stops a little ways in front of Chanyeol, who looks a bit befuddled by the sudden interruption, and turns his head to face Jongdae but ends up missing a few inches, looking straight at the window behind the latter without actually seeing.

“Well I didn’t mean to—“ Jongdae clears his throat. Why is he supposed to be the one to apologize? He’s the one who’s in a superior position here, not this guy. “I am a detective; of course I would be the type of man who stands by facts instead of guesses. And I’m not exactly keen on how you’d help us with this case, given your… situation.”

The man clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disappointment and shakes his head, fringe brushing against his forehead and making him look even a lot younger. “I believe we haven’t even met before?” He extends a hand a little ways to Jongdae’s right, eyebrows scrunching up in irritation. “I’m Do Kyungsoo, and I used to be detective, too.”

\--

**Chensoo Blind (블라인드)! au extension**  
_**577 w** _

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, intrigued, disturbed. “You mean to say he killed his own brother?!”

“No!” Junmyeon holds up his hands above his head in frustration. The chief of police nudges his best friend, Jongdae, who’s sitting beside him. “Explain it to the newbie. My head hurts.” He sits back on his chair and covers his eyes with his right hand, breath going shallow as he pretends to sleep. Or maybe he really is sleeping. Jongdae isn’t sure.

Jongdae sighs. “Look, it’s not that Do Kyungsoo killed his own brother. It’s just that he was mainly the reason why he died.”

“But isn’t that the same?” Chanyeol scratches the back of his head.

He receives a sigh from the police that had still been listening despite showing the signs that he was resting and a great amount of side-eyeing from his senior. “Okay, first things first: they met in the orphanage where they lived, so technically they’re not really brothers. And another thing is, Kyungsoo was in his third year in the police academy, while Jongin pursued dance even though he knows his ‘brother’ disapproves.”

“So Kyungsoo killed him because of that?!”

“Dammit, let me finish, will you!”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Just, chill out man.”

“How the fuck would I chill out,” Jongdae grumbles, but he continues anyway. “So on the night Jongin was going to perform with his friends, Kyungsoo dragged him out and handcuffed him to the car they were in. But then a truck passed by, and they barely avoided it, but Kyungsoo got thrown out of the window from the impact of the swerve, and the van was left on the side of the bridge.”

Jongdae could see it in his mind’s eye, the van teetering along the edge. Jongin screaming out for his brother to help him. And Kyungsoo, bloodied and bruised, trying to stand up, eyes blurry from the concussion he’s received, dragging himself up to help his brother.

But the van falls to the water, and Kyungsoo falls down on the ground, helpless. ‘Splash. Thud.’ It was the end of the line for them.

The door suddenly opens with a loud bang, and Junmyeon’s eyes fly open as someone snaps at them. “Enough of that,” it was Kyungsoo, his eyes black pools of a hidden past. “We still have a case to solve. No more fairy tales.”

‘But it isn’t a fairy tale,’ Jongdae would’ve corrected. ‘It’s a tragedy.’

Chanyeol helps Kyungsoo to sit on the chair he was occupying earlier and leaves, closing the door behind him as gently as he could. Well, if a loud thump counts as gentle, that is.

Junmyeon sits on his chair properly, flustered and conscious even though Kyungsoo doesn’t see him, a habit he’s never gotten rid of ever since he’s gotten into the whole police business. He’d been trained to be formal in dealing with others, especially witnesses, after all. Even one whose credibility he’s not sure about. “Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing his eyes awake. “The rookie asked and—“

Kyungsoo makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “No, it’s fine. That was in the past. Let’s just get on with this case and finish it.”

Jongdae wonders if it really is fine; if it really was in the past, and that if he’s put it behind him.

He knows that Kyungsoo is blind, but what if the ghost of Jongin’s face is all that he sees in all the darkness?

\--

**Suhan dystopian! au**  
**_Suho/Luhan, 411 w_ **

Luhan hugs his knees to his chest and cradles back and forth, back and forth, until he couldn’t remember how much time has passed since he’s been doing that. A shrill scream pierces through the halls from six cells down, and he shouldn’t be bothered by it, except that he still is.

He should be used to it by now, having been held as a prisoner of a war he doesn’t even know how he ended up in for a matter of almost four months now, but every echo of leather hitting skin and iron singing off flesh bounces off the walls that every day the paranoia would set in, no matter how much he tried to contain his fear.  
What if he’s next?

Around him, all he hears are the prayers of the people held captive and the pained moans of the terrorized victims, but never a sigh of relief. He wonders when they’ll be able to leave, if they could ever even leave at all, and alive and intact at that. He thinks of how things used to be better back then, of how things could have been better at the present. But despite all the questions in his head, the only answer he gets are droplets of tears coming from his eyes, falling on his grime-streaked knees.

He feels hands wrap around the sides of his head to cover his ears and drown out all the howls of anguish and the whimpers of never-ending misery and looks up to see Junmyeon smiling down at him. It doesn’t bear the brightness of his old smile; now it was only a ghost of what has used to be. But at least it was still there; a blinking, dim light that seems to be ready to sputter out but doesn’t anyway, because it’s still waiting for someone. And maybe if Junmyeon wasn’t there, Luhan would’ve already started to break under the tension and never get back up.  
He sniffles, and Junmyeon’s thumb wipes away the tears that have slid down his cheeks. “Everything will be alright.” He says.

“Everything will be alright.” Luhan echoes, repeating it over and over in his head like a mantra just to be able to hold on to something, just so he wouldn’t feel lost in a great expanse of a sea made out of blood.  
“Everything will be alright.” Junmyeon repeats, a reassuring sentence in the midst of all the chaos.  
Though it hardly is.

\--

**ChanSoo domestic! au**  
**_Chanyeol/Kyungsoo, 440 w_ **

Chanyeol is surprised to be awoken from a deep slumber by the feeling of being dragged out of bed at seven in the morning, but then he cracks open his eyes and lets himself be dragged up, seeing as it was Kyungsoo anyways, and not some maniac wanting to kill him.

Knowing the guy, he would’ve been dragged along the floor by the ankle if it was part of the necessary precaution, but that was something that’s happened ages ago, back when they were still only dating.

“But I’m still sleepy,” Chanyeol whines, lanky limbs not faring well with the cute, pouty image he wants to put up. “It’s such an ungodly hour, why did you have to wake me up?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head impatiently, but clearly, he isn’t mad. “You applied for a scholarship grant for music at KNU, right?” It wasn’t an accusation, but rather barely an acknowledgement being brought up in the conversation as casually as one would bring up the topic of the weather. Chanyeol wonders why his husband looks so calm and collected when he’s lied about not being able to submit the application form just because he was scared that he wouldn’t get accepted and wouldn’t want to risk spreading the sadness of the disappointment with the latter, either.

“I—I can explain—“he starts, but Kyungsoo cuts him off with a shake of a head. The smaller man brings out a small, white envelope that had been tucked in the pocket of his striped pajamas, a smile starting to creep up on his face.

“No, you don’t need to. Especially since you got accepted already.” Chanyeol’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he reads the letter for himself to affirm the news. He roars his cheers and lifts his husband up in happiness, engulfing the smaller man in a tight hug.

They break the hug a little while later, Chanyeol’s grin taking up most of his face all the while, still unable to believe such luck. “Congratulations, Park Chanyeol. I guess you finally got it right.”

And even though the rejections from before stung, and the fact that it took him years to get the guts to go back to school and study the craft that he’s always wanted to pursue, all that was nothing compared to the happiness he’s feeling from finally getting what he’s always wanted, with his husband right by his side ready to support him.

In-between stars that shine and empty spaces in unending voids, there lies a dream, tucked along the edges of dust particles and balls of gases; a dream that might be a reality soon enough.

\--

**Domestic Chansoo (feat child Chen and new baby Luhan)**  
**_Chanyeol/Kyungsoo, 191 w_ **

Jongdae's smile immediately turns into a pout once he opens the door. "Dad, I said I wanted a new toy. Not a bald alien."

Chanyeol simply chuckles, ruffling the kid's head. "That's not a bald alien, Jongdae. That's your brother."

"His name is Luhan." Kyungsoo announces, coming in with gentle steps, cradling the baby in his arms. He bends down to show the kid his brother, almost kneeling so he could level himself with the six year-old.

Jongdae looks at the baby intently, and lightly pokes his cheek with a tiny finger. The baby, however, is too far in his slumber that he only moves his leg as if to kick, but then stays still again. "But he's too small." Jongdae complains. "Isn't he just like a doll?"

"That's because he's still a baby, Jongdae." Kyungsoo explains, standing up carefully so as to not wake Luhan up.

"A tiny human?"

Chanyeol laughs. "A tiny human without hair, yes."

Jongdae touches his head full of hair, pursing his lips. "I don't want to be a tiny human without hair."

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo share glances, holding in their laughter. If only Jongdae knew.

\--

**Single Jongdae bitching @ Baekyeol**  
**_Xiumin/Chen + Baekhyun/Chanyeol, 795 w_ **

single jongdae bitching at baekhyun and chanyeol because they're *SooOOooOooO* happy, and baekhyun sets him up with minseok and jongdae's snarky remarks die on his tongue.

"Hey Baekhyun, do you know what day it is?" is the first thing Jongdae asks his best friend the moment Baekhyun enters the school auditorium, hands intertwined with Chanyeol's and a grin that could outshine the sun's on his face.

Baekhyun slows down his pace but keeps on walking, counting back the days in his head. "Uh... Friday?" he answers, slipping in his chair right next to Jongdae. The auditorium is almost full.

"Friday," Jongdae nods, and Chanyeol takes a seat on Baekhyun's other side. "What a beautiful day, isn't it?" and before Baekhyun could answer, "A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO MIND YA DAMN BUSINESS".

"O...kay?" Baekhyun's eyebrows wrinkle together. "Jeez, what's up with you?"

"What's up with me? WHAT'S UP WITH ME?!" Jongdae half-shrieks, bordering near hysterical that even Chanyeol who usually takes things lightly looks over, worried. His voice echoes throughout the whole auditorium,and everybody turns their heads to look at him. Normally, he'd be embarrassed, but this is one of those days that he just doesn't care because there are more pressing matters than having almost a thousand college students judging you from their seats, and he promptly ignores all the attention. "You set me up on a blind date with a senior, how could I just not say anything about this?" his question is almost a growl instead.

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. "So you knew."

"You didn't plan on telling me?!" Jongdae blanches at the incredulity of it all. "And I wouldn't have found out if he didn't text me?"

"Go figure."

"But why?" All the unwritten question marks hang themselves in the air. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS."

"Ssh! You're being too noisy!" The girl on the seat in front of Jongdae's scolds them. "The program's about to start."

"Shut up, you don't even go here." He says, and the girl just gapes at him because OMG HE DID NOT JUST QUOTE MEAN GIRLS AT ME.

"Precisely. I'm your friend, so I'm here to ruin your life." Baekhyun doesn't say it's because he's tired of the endless comments Jongdae gives them about being the third wheel and the other snide remarks he usually gives, the last one being "Couple items aren't even really items made just for couples, they're basically buy-one-take-ones for people who aren't single."

"I'll probably end up cutting you to pieces by tomorrow." Jongdae says with a stiff smile.

"Why, don't you trust my taste?"

"Baekhyun, the last time you tried to set me up with a guy, I ended up in the hospital."

"Hey, Zitao's a sensitive guy. You tried to tackle him on the first date."

"I was trying to shake hands with him," Jongdae corrects with the habitual eye roll. "Not strangle him. You guys are overreacting."

Baekhyun shrugs. "Must be a wushu artist thing. But you gotta admit, he's good. I guess you can call him a super high school level--"

"Baekhyun, no." Jongdae deadpans. "My tolerance for your anime references is comparatively similar to how much Kyungsoo will pay just to /not/ hear your breathing."

"Hey guys--" Chanyeol starts, but Jongdae immediately cuts him off with a scowl.

"Not now Chanyeol, we're in the middle of a duel here." And Chanyeol is about to ask why exactly they're having a duel in the first place and what for, and also maybe add "then why aren't you guys in an arena", when a shadow falls over them. There's a light tap on Jongdae's shoulder, shutting him up.

"Hey. You're Jongdae, right? I'm Minseok. The.. uhm... date? Well... You know." He receives a smile filled with pink gums and small teeth from a face that's so far from the nose-picking barbarian that he imagined that he almost falls off his seat. "Anyway, can I sit here?"

"Uh.." All the words that Jongdae has been planting in his mind to say when he finally meets his date ends up lost in a muddle of other thoughts, which may have sounded like, "cute man-child!" and "every oppa's dream come true".

"Yes, he's Jongdae. And yes, you may." Baekhyun manages to save him in the last minute, and he's now torn between wanting to strangle his friend for setting him up on a blind date and hugging him for setting him up on a blind date with Kim Minseok.

Minseok settles down beside Jongdae, and Baekhyun isn't sure if his friend is mortified or just too excited with the prospect of having someone as handsome as Minseok as his date.

"Hey Chanyeol, I've finally got the joke of the year." Baekhyun nudges Chanyeol lightly on the ribs. "It involves Jongdae finally shutting up and not being a bitch for once."

Chanyeol nods, looking thoughtful. "Kim Minseok has his ways."

\--

**Jongdae drunk! au**  
**_Chen-centric, 356 w_ **

Jongdae opens his eyes and he blinks. One, two, three. The realization slowly sinks in, and he immediately sits up, eyes wrenched awake and gasping. "WHAT YEAR IS IT??!"

Kyungsoo, who's sitting on his own bed beside Jongdae's takes off the earphones stuck in his ears, looking annoyed. "Shut up Jongdae, you've been talking non-stop in your sleep. Give me a break, will you?" He reprimands his roommate, as if he's the older one between the two of them.

"Sorry," Jongdae mumbles in apology, rubbing his forehead. "What happened last night?"

Kyungsoo grumbles. "Do you even want to know."

"The party at Minseok-hyung's?" Chanyeol, who's been observing his two other roommates flips over on his stomach, a smile tugging on his lips, immediate signs of laughter forming at the sides. "Dude, you fell in the pool last night because you got too drunk."

"I what" Jongdae pales, face blank in disbelief.

"You kept walking and then stopping to ask us where the yellow brick road ends. JONGDAE YOU WERE WALKING ON GRAVEL. ALSO, YOU'RE NOT DOROTHY." Kyungsoo answers for him.

"I don't remember--"

Kyungsoo cuts him off before he could even finish his sentence. "You were /swimming/ in the pool, telling us you'd demonstrate the best way to do a butterfly stroke. But it didn't have any water. Figures how you didn't want to remember any of that."

"But before that, you went ballistic on Jongin because he defeated you in Mario Kart." Chanyeol adds.  
"Ah that," Jongdae nods, throat going dry. "I remember that."

"Do you also remember how traumatized the poor kid was." Kyungsoo says, unblinking.

"Hey, Mario Kart is a game to be taken seriously! And he _laughed_ at me! My pride couldn't take any of that!"

Chanyeol stands up from his bed, coming over to pat Jongdae on the shoulder. "Dude, just lay down."

"Go back to sleep Jongdae," Kyungsoo calls. "Maybe the whole world will forget how much of a shameful person you were last night if you stopped showing them your face for days."

Jongdae grunts in response. "Thanks guys. You're the best roommates I could ever wish for."


End file.
